The Ballads of Gravity

സര്‍വ്വ പ്രപഞ്ചത്തെയും നമ്മിലേക്കാക്കി; ഉള്ളില്‍ എരിയുന്ന കനലിനെ തീയാക്കി,   ശ്വാസത്തെ കാറ്റായും, കണ്ണീരിനെ   മഴയുമാക്കി, കാലച്ചക്രങ്ങളുടെ നിയമങ്ങള്‍ക്കും , ചക്രവാളങ്ങള്‍ക്കുമപ്പുറെ, ആദിയും മധ്യാന്ധവും ഇല്ലാത്തിടത്തുനിന്നു,  നമ്മൾ പ്രണയിച്ചു ! പെയ്യാത്ത മഞ്ഞിനേയും, മഴയും; വീശാത്ത കാറ്റിനെയും, മരുഭൂമിയുടെ സ്വൗന്ദര്യത്തേയും   പ്രണയിക്കുമ്പോള്‍; മഴയും മഴവില്ലും , തിരയും കരയും  പ്രണയിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ , നമ്മൾ  അനശ്വരതയുടെ കാവ്യമാകുമ്പോൾ  - നീയെനിക്ക് കാലം  

My name is Stephen Dedalus. I am a hawk within myself, a creature bound to the human form, yet tethered to something greater. My wings are magnificent and powerful, capable of navigating even the most violent and unpredictable tempests of existence. In the face of these storms, I will never lose my way. The firmament, that eternal expanse of spotless sky, does not weigh my heart with its monstrous gravity. Gravity. What a profound phenomenon! It anchors everything, yet it also gives meaning to all that exists. Gravity shapes us, gives us life, love, and lust. It makes time and space possible, and in its absence, existence would fragment into endless, uncountable particles of matter. Without gravity, life itself would cease to be, and even death would be impossible. How could I not fall in love with it? I am an anarchist. Not in the political sense, but in a deeply personal way. The adventure of life is enough to keep me enthralled with the transient nature of our existence. I have no ...

The thickness of air is caused by the heaviness of dreams; tears vapoured into the forms of clouds vanish into the same thick air. I haven’t ever enjoyed the beauty of night like this. Removed from the shades of family care and protection, love and company of strangers , I live in the land of events where dreams are born or carried to and died or buried. Living life alone, meeting my needs and taming them and myself is a great adventure I’ve ever set out for. It is good to be here. I learn things fast and the way I meet people fascinates me, they are happening to me. I see that same thick air floating over their head; it rains in their minds unconditionally feastings their body and soul. They are all happy. They are happy. This strange land makes them something else. The memories and thoughts of their loved ones, dreams they make into reality, struggles they turn into happiness, make them monumental men. They survive and make the possible. Life is a cocktail. A perfect mixtu...

Pieta is my favourite art, an amazing Art of emotional sculpturism carved by the victim of life; it frightens me and awes me. The conditionality of human race on the acceptance of fate creates the vulnerability and greatness of its kind- Pieta is an art of aesthetic purgation. What worse could have happened in the life of a mother other than the burial of her son? The emotional trauma she faces cannot be understood or explained through any of the existing or available laws of nature or human understanding. The numbness of heart, meaninglessness of life and helplessness of death altogether execute the verdict of some unknown laws to which we are all indebted from the time immemorial. Which human reason can understand and justify that law of fate? Sculpturism of human life! What I think about pieta and the words I use fail to convey the emotional status of that particular condition of human life especially in the life of a mother. No man can ever understand it, so do I. The...